


standing on the edge

by cadyjanis



Series: mean girls [2]
Category: Mean Girls - Richmond/Benjamin/Fey
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Character Development, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-10-28 12:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17787716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadyjanis/pseuds/cadyjanis
Summary: she wishes it were that easy. like she could turn off her feelings and go the rest of their lives never apologizing or talking about what happened. but she can’t hide in shame forever—she can’t bury her head in the sand and anticipate change.she wants to say it, she just doesn’t know how.—regina needs help, and gets it from the last person available.





	standing on the edge

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i don’t ship them and never will, i just wanted to write how i imagine That conversation happening.
>
>> **trigger warnings:**   
>  implied/referenced sexual assault   
>  bullying/abuse mention   
>  homophobia/d slur   
>  self harm reference

Regina wouldn’t be doing this if she had any other choice.

 

But literally everyone she could think of is either busy or taking shelter from this damn storm. It warranted great effort to ask Cady for Janis’s number, even greater to punch it in and send the stupid text. Now she just waits.

 

It’s already pouring out, so the chances of a rescue are probably slim, and even if it wasn’t she has little hope in Janis Sarkisian cooperating. Not that she blames her, obviously.

 

She doesn’t have much time before Prince _Not_ Charming wakes up. Her body is still throbbing with adrenaline from what she had to do. She actually can’t believe it happened; she feels kind of like she’s in shock, otherwise she’s pretty sure she’d be freaking the fuck out right now—but she can’t afford to incapacitate herself further.

 

Her screen lights up with a response, and she inhales, rushing to read it. Her shoulders slump, but with relief, and her stomach flops in surprise. Janis needs the address.

 

Regina gives it to her, and Janis says she’ll be there as soon as she can. Regina thanks her in all caps, praying she won’t change her mind—or worse, pull a prank and not show up. Though maybe Regina deserves that.

 

Regina paces the front porch, chewing her nail as she waits. Her sixteen-year-old self wouldn’t be happy about that, but she hardly gives it a second thought.

 

It’s gotten significantly darker by the time headlights shine through the rain, and Janis’s old red truck comes ambling down the street. Regina has never been so relieved to see this girl in her life, not even the time when they were eleven and Janis got a concussion and Regina pleaded until she got to visit her in the hospital room.

 

That particular memory flashes through Regina’s head as she jogs through the downpour then gratefully climbs into the dry cab of the truck, clutching her phone and remaining dignity.

 

“Oh, God, thank you so much,” she pants, drying her hands on her jeans.

 

“Yeah,” is all Janis says, turning up the heat to help her dry off. She makes a U-turn as Regina buckles her seatbelt, shivering.

 

“Do you need directions to my house?” she asks, willing her to teeth to stop chattering.

 

Janis glances at her sideways. “No,” she admits uncomfortably, but at least she’s honest. They haven’t been to each other’s houses in six years, but she remembers the way.

 

It’s quiet for a bit as she carefully drives, windshield wipers pumping. Despite the heat, Regina is still cold, but she tries not to show it; it doesn’t help that her hair is damp. God, her hair. She plucks at a piece to inspect the damage, then decides it shouldn’t matter. She quit coloring it a while ago, letting her natural roots grow in, then chopped off half of it last summer. She enjoys the easier upkeep and how much better it looks.

 

Sometimes she can’t believe she used to spend up to an hour styling it every day.

 

Well, no, she can. She knows why and she remembers when. Looking back from where she is now just makes it seem so dumb.

 

Naturally they get stuck in traffic, although Regina would choose traffic with Janis over bad sex with a douchebag any day. She stops shaking eventually, but is tense for other reasons.

 

“You bite your nails now?” Janis asks randomly after a long silence, startling her. She pulls her hand away from her mouth, embarrassed at being caught, but Janis merely huffs a laugh. “I’m not judging you,” she assures. “I just think it’s funny.”

 

Regina does, too. “Yeah,” she says, lifting a shoulder, still unable to look directly at Janis. “It is. Gretch used to do it but I’d tell her not to… But now I do it all the time.” She can’t recall the last time she got a manicure. Playing lacrosse doesn’t exactly allow perfect nails.

 

Truck still unmoving, Janis leans her elbow on the window seal, chin in her hand. But her eyes are on Regina, studying her quietly. Regina fidgets, staring out at the slab of gray before them. Janis used to stare at her constantly.

 

Enough that it got under Regina’s skin and she threw it in the poor girl’s face.

 

Regina closes her eyes, practically wincing against the onslaught of memories. Not that she is the one who got hurt—she just hates remembering what she did. Not just then, but every year after up until last Spring Fling. Now _that_ is something to be ashamed of. To make it worse, she hasn’t apologized yet, for any of it.

 

“Please don’t barf in my truck,” Janis deadpans. Regina shakes her head weakly.

 

“I won’t,” she whispers, as the truck crawls a foot or two then stops again. Janis heaves a sigh and turns the heat down slightly, but keeps her jacket on. It’s the denim one Regina hates. No, not hates— _hated._ For no actual reason other than she _needed_ a reason to laugh at her. To give herself ammunition in her tirade against Janis.

 

It’s a cool jacket. She doesn’t mean to look for too long, but Janis notices. “What?”

 

“Nothing.” Regina’s cheeks prickle. “Nothing, I just—I’ve never gotten a good look at it.” She’s spent so much time wanting to burn it in a trash can, but it’s actually really interesting.

 

Janis makes a sound. “Took me a year to finish,” she informs her.

 

“I like it.” It slips out, almost without Regina’s consent. But she means it regardless. Janis’s big dark eyes flicker at the compliment.

 

“Thanks,” she says, the hint of a smile playing on her mouth again.

 

Janis doesn’t look much different. She’s been the same since eighth grade: tall, black eyeliner, heavy boots, weird layered attire. Compared to the Plastics, Regina doesn’t get the sense she is hiding anything, or trying to cover up parts of herself with her clothes and makeup. Janis is a very loud, bold person, and it shows—but not in a bad way.

 

Meanwhile, Regina wasted her early to mid-teenage years wearing a mask made of silicone, and forced her friends to do the same. She doesn’t even talk to Gretchen or Karen these days.

 

She bites her tongue, wanting to cry. Communication flowed then became a stream then dried up, leaving nothing in its wake. The last conversations she had with either of them are dated in her phone as four months ago. They see each other at school, of course, but they have zero interest in rekindling what they had.

 

As fate would have it, Gretch and Karen are a thing now. Girlfriends. Regina either missed the signs while they were all still friends or they suppressed them so she wouldn’t find out. She won’t lie, parts of her still think there’s something weird about two girls doing it, because the only girl on girl action she’s ever seen has been in threesome porn and straight girls being dared to kiss at parties. She’s never been one of them, finding it gross.

 

But it isn’t, not really. She’ll spot Cady kissing Janis in greeting at school, and Regina is far too happy for her to be disgusted.

 

Even if it’s Janis. Who she owes a million and one apologies, and then some.

 

What sucks is that Regina can’t even pin her prejudice on her parents’ influence. She’s simply always been an asshole. Which she now takes full responsibility for, but does wonder how her parents never reeled her in—though it’s not rocket science, since her mom is a total pushover, and her dad is usually working around the country and overseas, anyway.

 

No time to be a parent. No time to be a father to his daughter.

 

That stings and all, but Regina knows she can’t excuse her past behavior on her absent daddy and that one time he cut her allowance in half.

 

All she can do is look ahead. That’s what her therapist tells her. Look ahead, and do your best. All she can expect from herself and all anyone can expect from her is the best she can do.

 

Which feels insurmountable given how many people she’s screwed over, and her first victim is right next to her today. Willingly.

 

Regina thinks about that, how Janis actually came and got her.

 

If she were in Janis’s shoes, she’d have done the same.

 

The traffic has cleared a little, so the truck drives normally. Janis is a careful driver, a reminder to Regina that good drivers get to keep their licenses. Needless to say, she lost hers.

 

“Cady goes to your lacrosse games, y’know,” Janis tells her out of the blue at a stoplight. “She says you’re pretty good at it.”

 

Regina blinks. “She does?” She tries to think of a time where she spotted the little curly-haired dork in the stands, but comes up empty. Maybe Cady’s presence is good luck, though, even if Regina wasn’t aware of it til now. There’s irony in that.

 

“Yeah,” Janis confirms, tapping her steering wheel. “Do you like it?”

 

Regina nods, shrugging. “Yeah. It’s fun. My therapist said channeling my rage into sports is an ‘excellent way’ to improve.” She makes air quotes. “Though I guess she was right.”

 

Now Janis actually grins. “I’m glad.”

 

Regina looks at her, really looks at her for the first time today, and Janis looks back. It’s not an awkward pause, just heavy once Regina lets herself feel its weight. Hundreds of words rise up in her throat, making it hard to breathe.

 

She goes back to chewing her thumbnail, looking out the windshield.

 

Rain blows against the truck on all sides, nearly rocking it. Janis checks her weather app, then texts Cady to let her know where she is. Regina moves on to her pointer finger.

 

She wonders if Janis feels it, too. This…pressure. It’s kind of suffocating, so much so Regina’s shocked Janis doesn’t appear to be bothered. For someone who spent a year getting revenge, she’s good at hiding how she really feels.

 

Except this is probably all in Regina’s head and Janis doesn’t care.

 

She wishes it were that easy. Like she could turn off her feelings and go the rest of their lives never apologizing or talking about what happened. But she can’t hide in shame forever—she can’t bury her head in the sand and anticipate change.

 

She wants to say it, she just doesn’t know how.

 

So lost in thought, Regina hadn’t noticed Janis slipping into her own until she says, “I had zero friends on my thirteenth birthday.”

 

Fuck. That’s the audible equivalent to a knife in the gut. Regina would prefer that.

 

“I didn’t even have a party,” Janis continues, staring straight ahead. “I just stayed in my room. I only went downstairs for cake and presents with my parents that night. But it didn’t feel like my birthday, y’know? I kept thinking about my twelfth and how you were there. We went to Build-A-Bear.” She pauses, chewing her lip, and Regina fights back tears. “I still have mine.”

 

“So do I,” Regina whispers, and Janis’s jaw tightens.

 

“Yeah. So. My thirteenth sucked ass.” She sighs. “I couldn’t believe in just a years’ time I’d lost all my fucking friends, and now everyone hated me.” She looks over at Regina, her eyes black like cold coffee. “Because of you.”

 

Regina chokes on a sob, hiding behind her hair. She swipes at her burning eyes. Thunder rolls outside, and the bottom of the truck trembles beneath her feet.

 

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Janis continues in a flat murmur, “to be twelve and go to school knowing everyone hates your guts and thinks you’re a weirdo. You don’t know what it’s like for a gay kid to walk up to their locker and see _dyke_ etched on it with a key. A key, Regina. Makes it more effective, doesn’t it? They had to change my locker door three fucking times.”

 

Her voice catches, and she leans her head on her steering wheel. Now she’s shaking, just not from the cold. Tears slip fat and hot down Regina’s cheeks, but she is immobile and quiet. She has to hear this, because no matter how difficult it is, it’s harder for Janis.

 

Inhaling slowly, Janis sits up. “I was lucky to find Damian then, otherwise I might be dead. The first year back was the worst.”

 

She aggressively pushes back her jacket sleeve and holds out her arm to Regina, who doesn’t want to look but makes herself. She presses a hand to her mouth at the sight of the faded but present scars, faint crisscross lines up and down Janis’s right arm. Janis withdraws it after a moment, letting it sink in. Regina can’t catch her breath.

 

“There’s more,” Janis says hoarsely. “On the other one. And my thighs. My stomach.”

 

“God, Janis,” Regina whimpers, hiding her face in her hands. “Jesus Christ.”

 

No, she doesn’t know what it’s like. She has no freaking clue what Janis’s life has been like for the past six years. And it’s all her fault. Those scars should be hers to bear. You could say that each one represents an insult she hurled at Janis, or a prank she and the Plastics pulled.

 

She has been a bad person. An utterly horrible, vain, selfish person. Janis did nothing, literally nothing to deserve what Regina and the rest of their school have done to her. She was a good friend, probably the best Regina’s ever had. And Regina threw her to the goddamn wolves like she was a piece of disposable meat.

 

Only to chew her up and spit her out, over and over and over again.

 

“It’s been a year since Spring Fling,” Janis is saying, ragged and worn down. “After that night it was easy to think maybe you’d come around and try to talk to me. If we were all moving on, I’d hoped you would let me. But you never did. And I don’t know why,” she laughs to herself wetly, “I even had hope. Maybe because you stayed friends with Cady and I just thought…”

 

She trails off, shaking her head. There’s a pause as she pulls into a gas station and parks, cutting the engine. She runs a hand through her half-bleached hair. Regina tries to swallow down the lump in her throat, to no avail.

 

It’s heart-wrenching how one person can make another hurt so deeply.

 

“I don’t know,” Janis echoes thickly. “But not once in the past year have you tried to say you’re sorry. Not once have you even passed along a message through Cady. Our first fight was over you. I was mad she still hung out with you when you hadn’t shown any sort of remorse. But it’s Cady, y’know?” and Regina nods in mute agreement.

 

God. If they’d broken up because of her she really wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

 

“We worked it out,” Janis says. “I wasn’t really…mad at her. I can’t choose who her friends are and I told her that. I was mad at you and took it out on her. Which makes me sick to my fuckin’ stomach.” She closes her eyes, trying not to cry. “She didn’t deserve that. She understood, but it shouldn’t have even happened.”

 

 _Like most things regarding you and me,_ Regina doesn’t say.

 

“So.” Janis breathes out, staring down at her lap, the floral pattern on her tights. “We’re okay. It just made me realize how angry I still am at you. That I can’t go without an apology. And it took me a while to acknowledge this, but I deserve one. What I did to you is tame in comparison.”

 

She looks sharply at the blonde, who flinches like she’s been slapped. “I don’t need some long-winded essay on why you were wrong,” she says softly, so dangerously. “I know why. I hope you do, too. I just need you to look me in the eye and say _I’m sorry_ like you mean it. For once I need you to gather your fucking pride and do the right thing.”

 

Regina wipes at her streaming eyes, not caring how bad she looks. And she’s not attempting to garner sympathy, or be coddled. Janis isn’t her mother, and she won’t stoop to that just to make the ex-mean girl feel better.

 

It’s generous enough that she doesn’t expect Regina to apologize for every single thing—but if that was asked of her, Regina would do it, even if it took hours, days, weeks. Years.

 

Regina can barely see her through the tears still pooling in her eyes. The words are there, can feel them balancing on the tip of her tongue like a diver about to take a risky leap. Salt trickles into her mouth, and she says in one short breath, “I’m sorry, Janis.”

 

The other girl’s name ends on a sob, and Regina finds refuge in her hands again, letting tears rack through her like she’s a tree in this storm.

 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” she weeps, as Janis is silent. “I wish I could take it back.”

 

Janis still doesn’t say anything, giving Regina a minute to cry. And Regina might’ve imagined it but for a second it almost feels like Janis put her hand on her shoulder.

 

“Alright, calm down,” Janis mutters at some point as Regina teeters on hyperventilation. “Gina, relax, take a breath.” Which only makes her cry harder, because it’s a childhood nickname that only Janis ever got to call her.

 

“I’m sorry,” Regina wails again, but tries to reel herself back in, aware it’d be next to impossible to reach the hospital if she fainted. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

 

“I know, I heard you the first time,” Janis reassures, awkwardly patting her back. “Breathe.”

 

It takes the same amount of effort sending that text did, but Regina ultimately manages to stop crying so much. Janis doesn’t pull her hand away until Regina’s chest quits heaving.

 

Her head is light and her vision is prickly, but she’s fine. She has to be.

 

She’s mostly touched by Janis’s kindness, because of all the people to help her through a cry-session-slash-panic attack, she’d expect Janis to leave her high and dry. But Janis has a good heart. Maybe there’s still hope for them both.

 

This is not how or where Regina imagined this conversation taking place, but now that it’s over it makes sense why it would be.

 

“You good?” Janis inquires gently after a couple minutes, and Regina nods, even though she’s probably going to have a stomach ache for days from all of this.

 

But, she did the damn thing. She said it. It took six years, but she finally said it.

 

And Janis seems satisfied, not so frustrated and angry now, because she heard a million more _I’m sorry_ ’s in that one alone. She guns the engine and eases her way back onto the road, now turning on the radio, filling the silence with noise.

 

Which is just as well, because Regina is blanking on anything else to say. But there’s a weight that’s been lifted, and her torso and shoulders don’t feel so heavy. Or her heart.

 

The storm has lightened to just rain by the time Janis drives through the gates of Regina’s rich and pearly neighborhood. Regina remembers then why exactly she needed a ride home—it hits her like a ton of bricks.

 

“Seriously, don’t puke,” Janis pleads again as she pulls into the Georges’ driveway.

 

“Fuck.” Regina rubs her temples, now fighting a migraine.

 

Janis parks in front of the porch steps, passengers side facing it so Regina won’t have to dash through the rain again. “Whose house were you at, anyway?” she asks, and Regina groans.

 

“That kid Oliver…” She shudders at the recent memory of his hands on her arms, how quickly his demeanor changed when she said she wasn’t so sure after all. She weaseled her way out of his grip but he attempted to grab her again, so she snatched the lamp off his nightstand and cracked it over his head. He collapsed, bleeding and unconscious, onto the floor.

 

Reading the specific look of horror on her face, Janis demands, “Did he hurt you?” and Regina swears she almost sounds defensive.

 

“He—” Regina swallows, unsure what to do now that she’s home. “Yeah. Well, he tried to. But, y’know, I got away. I’m fine. He was, uh…sleeping peacefully.”

 

Janis doesn’t ask for clarification, and Regina is glad. She changes the subject by saying, “Uh, so, anyway. Um. Thanks for the ride. I…appreciate it.”

 

“Sure.” Janis’s lips twitch with a smile. “Cady begged me to do it, so you better thank her.”

 

Regina snorts, unsurprised. She unbuckles her seatbelt, but doesn’t leave just yet. There’s still so much more to say, or at least it feels that way. But the important part is done.

 

There’s just one question she needs an answer to. She looks at Janis, at her familiar face, and briefly sees her twelve-year-old friend. It’s excruciating knowing she’ll never get that back. They’ll never be those kids again.

 

Then she asks tentatively, “Are you happy? You and Cady?”

 

Janis seems taken aback by the fact that she cares enough to ask. But she nods. “Yeah.”

 

“Good,” Regina whispers, and grabs her phone.

 

“I’m sorry,” Janis says suddenly as Regina touches the handle. Regina looks at her for clarification. “For what I did.”

 

Regina shakes her head. “Don’t be sorry,” she tells her, and that’s that.

 

She pops open the door then, ducking her head against the rain, and safely makes it up to the door. She finds the key under the mat and unlocks it, turning to wave at Janis.

 

She waves back, smiling a little.

 

Regina hears her truck rumble away then disappear, and leans heavily against the door, head actually pounding now. She sinks onto the bottom step of the staircase to take off her shoes, a pair of flats her mother used to wear.

 

She thinks about Janis, and she thinks about herself. Like this situation with Oliver, she has no idea what happens next, or if anything should. She can’t see her and Janis being friends, but it doesn’t matter as long as they’ve both said what they needed to say.

 

Thank God for thunderstorms and traffic, and tough girls who let their walls down.

 

Janis didn’t have to take her home. But she did out of the kindness of her heart. It’s more than just a favor to Cady, really.

 

She did it for Regina. Because that’s who Janis is. And it’s who Regina wants to be.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! kudos and comments are fetch ♡


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